


New Beginnings

by VoidGlasses



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:16:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28679508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoidGlasses/pseuds/VoidGlasses
Summary: Set a few years after Ep. 16 of The Mandalorian, Mando is back out working jobs. He has a new ship and a new partner - you.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	New Beginnings

Mando stomps through the tall grass, heavy boots demolishing the blades dancing in the wind. His left hand has a death grip around the center bar of the cuffs holding the quarry’s hands hostage behind his back, giving Mando enough leverage to push the trudging Rodian back to the ship. The gentle breeze that flutters the edges of his cloak causes his usually menacing shadow to dance in the sunlight. There’s something about watching him shove a reluctant quarry along your path that amazes you. You know he does it for a living, but it doesn’t make his demeanor any less impressive. 

You however, do not demolish grass as you trail behind the Mandalorian. In fact, you barely cause it to bend. The tall grass pops up behind you as if to taunt you, to remind you that you are not in fact a terrifying bounty hunter. Which, technically is true. You’re not a bounty hunter, at least not officially with the guild. According to their records you’re just a nuisance with a blaster and a knack for evading major bodily harm. 

You pause as Mando lowers the ramp to the ship, giving the Rodian a shove into the hull just because he could. You watch them from the outside, taking one last chance to soak in the sun rays and fill your lungs with fresh air before you set off for the next planet on the list. The air is sweet and warm blowing around you and through the gaps of your fingers. It lifts strands of your hair and drops them haphazardly around your face. The grasses you fought so hard to walk through now bristle against your shins and tickle at your knee caps.

You close your eyes, trying to take this moment for everything it is. You don’t get a lot of time on nature-filled planets, or on the ground, or outside the ship come to think of it. Mando may have hired you as backup but he rarely ever needed any backup. The only reason you stepped off the ship today being a small ambush you begged to take on. At first you were told absolutely no fucking way, but after incessant pleading you were reluctantly allowed to “help.”

“Let’s go.” His modulated voice snaps you from your trance. Mando stands at the edge of the hull, a finger hovering over the ramp’s retract button. You can tell by his voice he isn’t pleased with you standing around in a field of grass, seemingly doing nothing. 

“Sorry,” is all you can manage to say, hurrying up the ramp and taking a seat on one of the many cargo crates littered around the ship. The door thuds closed behind you followed only by the low ring of metal creaking under the Mandalorian’s boots. 

He had already put the prisoner in carbonite while waiting for you to get your head out of the clouds. It wasn’t your fault the guy was basically a lethal tin can who couldn’t appreciate the simple moments. You sink down onto one of the many cargo crates littered around the hull and wait for what will surely be another boring jump to lightspeed. For a ship preparing to leave a planet’s orbit, it’s awfully quiet. You had spent plenty of time alone on this ship, and while that may have become the status quo, it didn’t make it any less lonely. 

You prop an arm up on one knee and rest your chin in your palm debating whether or not it was worth getting thrown off the New Crest for trying to start a conversation. It wouldn’t be that bad, this planet was nice from the little you had seen and not terribly violent despite your little brawl. There was probably a village you could walk to with food and a job, so really, getting your ass left here wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen to you.

“So where to next,” you quip. It’s so evident in your tone that you don’t actually care. 

Mando doesn’t respond right away. Typical. He does however walk towards you, helmet tilted down to your right leg. “You’re bleeding.” The helmet makes it sound like more of a notification than a concern.

“What?” Instead of checking your leg your eyes stay locked with his visor, forehead scrunched and brows furrowed. 

“You’re bleeding,” he repeats, this time more stern. Mando points to your leg, and, shit. Sure enough you’ve got a somewhat nasty cut running about four inches from just below your knee cap to your outer leg. You hadn’t felt the cut, it wasn’t all the deep. Honestly more damage had likely come to the fabric of your pant leg than anything, you try to convince yourself.

“Oh um, it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” You try to wave him off, play down the stinging setting in the longer you ignore it. As you try to stand, to step around him, he taps you on the sternum causing you to stumble back onto your make-shift chair. 

“It’ll get infected. Let me treat it.” He doesn’t give you much of a choice, taking your injured leg in his hand and shoving your pant leg up just high enough to expose the full damage. You can’t hold back a wince. Okay, maybe it did hurt a little more than you were hoping. Maybe standing in knee-high grass for so long wasn’t the smartest idea you’ve had today. Mando applies bacta to your cut then wraps a few layers of gauze to stop the immediate trickle of blood. 

“Some bounty hunter,” he mumbles as he finishes patching up your leg. 

“Not a bounty hunter,” you stiffly remind him. This had become a regular point of contention between you. See, when Mando hired you, the interview consisted of just two questions; can you shoot and can you fly. Apparently answering yes meant “yes, I’m a bounty hunter” and not actually “yes, I can shoot and fly.” It must not have bothered him that much given your continued stay on his ship. 

Mando didn’t say anything, just pulled the bottom of your scrunched pant leg down to your ankle before walking back to the cockpit. He took his place in the pilots seat before tapping in the coordinates for the next trip and initiating the lightspeed protocols.

“Um, thanks.” You aren’t sure how to respond, still baffled at how quickly Mando was able to switch from gentle and caring to cold and distant. 

Sometimes it seemed like he was holding back, like he was torn between wanting to embrace having someone around or push them away. The way Mando had noticed your injury before you had made it seem like he was used to looking out for someone other than himself. And, the delicate way he handled your leg was such a sharp contrast to his usual roughness that you would almost dare to call it second nature. You were considering letting the idea go, not making much of it and moving on. But something pulled at you, this sort of nagging curiosity to understand him beyond just a mysterious man hidden in beskar. You just wanted to know why, really. Of course there were other questions you wanted to ask but in this moment you needed to know why. You stood from your crate, taking a hesitant step forward on your injured leg. It doesn’t feel great, considerably more sore than before, but certainly not the worst shape you’ve been in.

“You shouldn’t walk on it yet.” Mando’s modulated voice throws you off guard. He hadn’t been looking anywhere near you and he still knows your every move. You shouldn’t be as surprised as you currently are, he is possibly the most well known bounty hunter throughout the galaxy for a reason. 

“Oh, yes, right. Well-” 

“You can ask your question,” he cuts you off. It isn’t stern, just to the point. A lot like him, actually.

“Why’d you clean and bandage my leg?” You blurt out, perhaps a bit too eagerly. The inflection in your question has Mando swiveling his seat to face you. You stare blankly at the visor of his helmet, just hoping he doesn’t make your curiosity for ungratefulness. 

“You were hurt,” he says calmly.

“Well yeah, but. I could've taken care of it, not like I was going to bleed out.” You cross your arms over your chest, hip popped as you shift your body weight onto your better leg, displeased with his initial response. You’re waiting for the truth, and you know that he knows you expect it.

The silence hangs in the air until Mando breaks it. He sighs, “I’ve gotten used to having a partner that needed a lot of help.” He shifts his posture to be less rigid, arms now loosely resting on the seat’s armrests and back ever so slightly hunched forward toward you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t mean you.” Mando pauses, searching for a way to explain. “About two years ago I was hired for a difficult bounty. Pay was good so I took it. Turned out it was just a kid, they wanted me to bring in this kid, and…” His trails off, gaze now shifting from you to the floor. 

“And... you didn’t bring it in, did you?” 

He doesn’t look at you. “No, I couldn’t. I decided to save him, took him on the run to find more of his kind.” 

“Did you?” You ask softly. Baffled to have even gotten this much out of him. You lower yourself back on to your crate, trying to make it obvious that you want to know more if he’ll share it. 

“Eventually, yes. Some young kid, a um, fuck. What did he call himself? A Jedi, I think. Gave him the kid. That was almost a year ago now.” He sits quietly. Though you didn’t know it, that had been the first time he would ever tell someone about his recent history. You don’t know what to say. Is there anything you can say to someone opening up when they hardly say a word to you otherwise?

“I’m sorry,” you say meekly. “It sounds like you were really close.” 

Mando doesn’t answer. He simply fixes his posture and returns his chair to it’s primary position facing the dash of flickering lights. From your angle you could see the faint reflection of the red and green flashes off his body armor. It was clear you had gotten as much of the story as you were ever going to. Honestly, you still couldn’t believe he told you anything. You suppose you may never know his reasoning, and at this point you knew it was best to refrain from prodding further. 

The slight bulge of the bandage under your pant leg catches your eye, pulling you from the abstract train of thought to a new, clearer one.

Oh. It wasn't his partner. It was his kid, the bounty was like his kid. Mando didn’t just lose a partner, he gave up his family.

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks. Your chest tightened, suddenly understanding why he was so closed off but more importantly why he had asked you to join. He was lonely, and you happened to be in the right place at the right time to be someone he could simply exist around.

See, you had crossed paths in some tiny desert town, he asked a few questions about his current job and you told him what you knew in exchange for a handful of credits. At the time it was a moment in passing, until three days later you saw him walking back through town, this time quarry in tow. He had stopped long enough to thank you for your information and ask if you needed a job. A terrible, low paying job, he warned, but still a way off a desolate planet. 

So of course you said yes. At the time you assumed the offer came out of gratitude, but you were starting to understand that you played a bigger role than just the occasional back-up. 

You weren’t a replacement, no. You were a new beginning.


End file.
